


Deteriorate

by Rue LaShay (RueLaShay)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Capture, Deepthroating, Forced Compliance, Forced Kissing, Forced Oral Sex, Non-Consentual Bondage, Other, POV Second Person, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28768383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RueLaShay/pseuds/Rue%20LaShay
Summary: You didn't expect to falter before Zenos.Perhaps... he didn't expect you to either. At first he doesn't seem to know what to do with you. Once he decides, though, he will not be denied.Please mind the tags and warnings.
Relationships: Implied Fandaniel/Zenos yae Galvus (One-sided), Slight Fandaniel/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Kudos: 40





	Deteriorate

**Author's Note:**

> Despite what the pairing tags might imply, Fandaniel/WoL is the main focus of this story.
> 
> Please do not hesitate to let me know if I forgot to tag something.

You didn't expect to falter before Zenos.

Always before, when your opponent had proven more mighty than anticipated, some flame within you had burned brighter, kindling commensurate power of your own. Always before, it had borne you up as though you had wings, some way to soar higher. But either it had burned dim and guttered out from overuse, or something had interfered with it. Agony swelled and brimmed, and you fell, senseless.

You could do nothing but breathe as Zenos approached, nothing but wait for the terrible sword he carried to come down, to end you. But his hand instead tangled in your hair, hauling you partway off the ground. This new sharp pain atop all the rest was one straw too many. Oblivion claimed you.

  
  
  


Waking was not so terrible, to some surprise. You found yourself in a dim but spacious room, hands bound behind you. Your body ached yet, but either you had been out long enough to heal appreciably or someone had tended to your hurts. You had barely gained your feet when his minion appeared. The rogue Ascian.

"He hasn't decided what to do with you yet."

Gone as abruptly as he appeared, leaving you to wonder. He returned a few hours later, unbinding you for a meal and a visit to the privy. And again when your exploration of your prison, the large windows in particular, became too destructive. Plainly he was watching you.

The cycle repeated, Fandaniel feeding you and stopping you from getting into trouble, for a few sleeps. Sometimes he would chat with you, bright or playful or mocking, though as often he seemed content to silence, or responded only if you first engaged him. Comfortable it wasn't, not really, but his visits soon became routine, a sort of new normal.

  
  
  


You had no way to mark time, but your stomach proclaimed it about time for a meal when Fandaniel teleported into the room. You turned your back, presenting the cuffs, but instead of removing them he grabbed you by the wrist.

"Come along, now. And please don't try anything  _ cute, _ mmm?"

Your heart tripped, climbing into your throat. "Where are you taking me?"

"To His Radiance, of course."

No more explanation than that; darkness seized you and spat you out somewhere else. No chance to even recover from the disorientation as Zenos, slumped across the throne, explained in explicit detail what he had planned for you.

The sword resting across his lap banished thoughts of resistance. You swallowed hard, refusing to give him the pleasure of your fear. Determined to endure.

His height made the matter an awkward one, and the solution involved an elaborate combination of pillows and the different levels offered by the steps of the dais where the throne stood. Your heart beat fast; your stomach gaped hollow with sick anticipation. The cushions, at least, were merciful to your knees.

His hand yanking on your hair was much less kind.

He wasted no time, movements economical as he opened the front of his trousers and spilled his cock out the gap. Your heart quailed as he moved in, teeth bared, eyes greedy and shadowed. He must have been thinking on this for a time before your arrival, for his member was at full flag, thick and purple-flushed.

You drew back, shaking your head, shaking and shaking it. There was no way. He was too big, too much, too thick. That was  _ not _ going to fit. But even as the grip on your hair tightened to sharp agony and those eyes flashed with murder, gentle hands slid from behind you, caressing the sides of your face, stilling your movements.

"There, there," Fandaniel all but sighed, "no need for that, now."

"I—I can't  _ possibly…" _

"No?" He sounded amused. "You haven't even  _ tried. _ Come now…"

His legs braced against your back, simultaneous support and cage. One hand turned, the knuckles caressing your cheek. The fingers of the other crept along, the index tracing over your lower lip. The rest splayed about your chin. Gently, their pressure increased, coaxing rather than forcing your mouth open, your jaw lower, lower…

Satisfied, Zenos moved in once more, and you made an involuntary sound.

"Shhhh," whispered Fandaniel, leaning down now so his lips sat close beside your head. His caresses redoubled as the head of Zenos's cock brushed your lips—as you made another helpless little sound. "Shh. Relax."

His fingers guided the angle of your head, massaging the tension from the corner of your jaw. It helped, more than you expected it to. Under his guidance you somehow took the whole of Zenos's head in. Even with your jaw at full extension your teeth still met his skin, molars pressing against his shaft with each thrust and withdrawal. It didn't seem to bother him; seconds later you choked as he plunged as deep as he could.

"Very good," came Fandaniel's soft murmured encouragement. "Well done! Now, don't tense up."

The pressure to the back of your throat, the way your air cut off as Zenos strained for a moment, made you constrict. But Fandaniel never stopped the massaging touches, the litany of encouragement. Under his ministrations you relaxed enough to actually breathe between thrusts. His touch, his voice was an anchor, something to cling to, keeping you from being totally overwhelmed. Tears sprang to your eyes as you fought not to gag and choke.

"You're doing very well."

Your jaw was already starting to ache, but there was no chance of a breather, not by the way Zenos grunted and strained. He pulled on your hair again as he adjusted his feet, changing his stance. Fandaniel's careful hands tipped your head in response, again finding the angle that best allowed you to snatch for air between thrusts.

You held your eyes closed, the better to focus on Fandaniel, his guidance and encouragement. It was preferable to seeing Zenos, either his groin or his face. The image of it still lingered behind your eyelids, the gritted teeth, the love/hate burning in his eyes. The tears continued to slip out nonetheless, congestion making it yet harder to breathe. Your heart beat fast from fear, from shortness of breath, from a sick sort of arousal, your body's desperate attempt to cope with, to  _ survive _ this assault.

By the bestial noises Zenos had begun to make, it might nearly be over. Fandaniel's encouragement, at least, seemed to be coming to a head.

"You're doing fantastic. Just a bit more… don't quit on me yet…" His hands, so gentle, went abruptly firm, his grip inexorable and his body behind you tense. "Now. Swallow…" A warning note in his voice made your heart ping in alarm. You obediently swallowed, head starting to swim from hypoxia. And again, and again…

You gagged at the sudden hot rush of seed, filling your mouth despite your efforts, flooding you, so  _ much _ of it. You coughed, trying to draw breath, but he was still filling your throat, choking you. Panic seized your limbs, and you tried to fight free. Nothing worked; between the cuffs and the men on either side of you there was no escape.

Suddenly the pressure on your throat lifted. You wheezed in a desperate breath, another, coughing and choking but alive. Fandaniel continued to support you, stroking your face and neck and murmuring praise. His thumbs made arcs beneath your eyes, whisking away your tears. The sound of footsteps made you open your eyes. Zenos strode away; you stared after him. Was he angry? Satisfied? Bored? Long strides carried him out of the room, leaving you to fret.

From behind you Fandaniel sighed. His hands released, leaving you swaying on your knees. He squatted in front of you, head level with your own, clicking his tongue.

"Seems a waste to me. What  _ does _ he see in you, I wonder?" Seizing your chin, he kissed you, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He groaned as the slick muscle laved over your own, tasting you, you and the traces of seed that still coated your mouth. Startled into compliance, you froze, acquiescing.

He drew back and looked you over. For a moment something dangerous burned in his eyes, but he released your chin, turning without another word to stride after Zenos. You sprawled from shaking knees to one hip, hands still bound but finally freed to stretch.

Silence overtook the room. Your heart's beating seemed to be unnaturally loud. You sat for a time, just breathing. Trying not to think too much. No sooner did you recover enough to roll carefully to your feet but Fandaniel reappeared, by teleport this time. Cringing away from him had no effect; he again caught you by the wrists. But this time he removed the bindings and gave you a hearty slap on the back.

"Well, good luck then!"

You spun to face him, backing warily away. "What do you mean?"

He made a shooing motion. "Go. Run free. Go do your… hero thing, or whatever." At your hesitance he rolled his eyes. "Oh, for… do you need a map to help you find your way out?"

"I think I can manage." Still wary, you backed a few more steps away, then turned and ran for the massive double doors. Nothing stopped you, no guards, no barricades. No sudden appearances by teleportation-capable enemies. Minutes later, you burst out the doors of the palace onto a street lit by wintry sunlight.

Now catching your breath, you look about and find a hopeful alleyway. Breaking once more into a run, you set your eyes ahead, already planning how you might regroup with your friends.


End file.
